Christmas 2018
by WhatHaveWeDone
Summary: No good title for this I'm afraid - these are a couple of things I write for Secret Santa 2018. Brotherly talks and fluff.
1. Chapter 1

The prompt for this one was: 'Alan and Scott's brotherly/father-son type bond'

* * *

"And I suppose you yelled at him?"

"Seriously though John, he wants to do game design. What sort of use does that have in the rescue business?"

Scott was pacing in front of the holographic image of his brother as he ranted, and had covered the length of the room at least a dozen times since he called up to Thunderbird Five on his private channel. It was a line that no-one else could drop in to and John gave it priority meaning it was the go-to communication method for emergencies like this.

Scott thought of it as an emergency anyway, and John would too if he just listened while Scott explained. This was urgent!

"Our whole lives don't have to revolve around IR you know." John said distractedly, gesturing on a screen just out of range of the holoemitters. He clearly wasn't taking this seriously – this was Alan's entire life at stake.

"I know that, this isn't about Interntional Rescue. This is about making sensible choices, Alan should be thinking about his future and choosing a career. Not just" Scott waved a hand "playing around."

"Do you think what I do is 'playing around'?" John raised an eyebrow, pausing for just a moment before carrying on with whatever he was doing.

"Of course not!"

"Well Dad did. He didn't see a value in programming or communications and I've covered some of the same areas as Alan will."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

John sighed heavily and turned to face Scott, giving him his full attention.

"What did Dad say when you told him you wanted to be a pilot?"

"He told me it was too dangerous."

"And you..."

"I told him to go to hell." Scott said with a smile at the memory.

"And Gordon said the same when Dad forbid him to continue competitive swimming. And Virgil ignored him when Dad said he shouldn't go to art college. And I just didn't tell Dad until I'd had confirmation that I was accepted onto that first astrophysics course. And do you remember what you told me after the blazing row was over?"

Scott remembered. John, who was always buzzing with enthusiasm about his latest obsession so that he wouldn't shut up about it, was instead subdued and listless. He had been laying on his bed staring at the ceiling when Scott found him. Little brothers were to be protected, taken care of, consoled and encouraged. There was only one thing to say in that moment.

"I said 'Good for you.'"

"Exactly. You supported me when I needed you to."

"But Dad would want..."

"It doesn't matter. No, Scott listen to me." John held up a spectral hand to forestall any interruptions. "It doesn't matter what Dad would want because he isn't here. He was always planning ten steps ahead but sometimes he forgot about the more human side, and that we needed to be happy as well. Which is why we come to you."

Scott had indeed been a sounding board for the others for as long as he had been a big brother- listening to them talk about the test they took at school, a girl they liked, a cool stick they found. However important or passing their opinion Scott had wanted to hear it: never telling them they were wrong to think for themselves. The world would try and pull them down soon enough so he wasn't about to contribute to it, though he sometimes suggested some more research to their more disastrous sounding ideas. Like when Virgil - a ten year old intent on understanding everything by taking it apart and putting it back together again - wanted to build a combustion engine in his bedroom. Scott guided him in finding out how to do it safely and when Virgil learned that it wasn't a good idea to have carbon monoxide being generated in your sleeping area he made the much more sensible decision to take apart the microwave.

Had Scott really stopped being the person they talked to? Was he now someone who talked at them instead? Of course they would stop sharing their secrets if they though he would go flying off the handle like Dad sometimes had. Sadly Scott could probably pin point the day it all changed and wondered what else he had missed out on. He would have to go to the others and make them spill all their secrets.

John had been watching him think, letting him come to his own conclusion. John had always been a great teacher like that. From the other side of the world and miles above John nodded when Scott refocused on him and said:

"Alan's smart enough to weigh up his options, he knows all the objections that a parent would raise and he still spoke to you before he went through it. I'm sure you're smart enough to work out why. Now I'm way too busy for this so go talk to him."

That was a lie. John could hold four conversations, plan two rescues, watch tv and bake a cake at the same time, there was no way he was too busy. But Scott realised that he was talking to the wrong brother, that he hadn't been thinking as a brother himself for a long time. It was time to fix that.

* * *

Scott slowly opened the door, to find Alan at his desk hunched over a text book writing in a large leather bound notebook.

"Go away Scott." Alan said without looking up.

"Can we talk?" Scott asked, entering the room just a few steps.

"No, because I'm not going to change my mind, no matter how much you yell at me." Alan said flatly.

"I'm not going to yell."

"Any more. You mean you are not going to yell any more? You were yelling quite a bit." Alan looked up now – a mix of hurt and angry and stubborn and unsure that Scott could remember from being a teenager himself.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry." Scott sat on Alan's bed, within touching distance but didn't reach out just yet. "You know I'm only ever looking out for you, right?"

"Sure. Are we done now?" Alan was already turning back to his book. Was he studying anyway, despite the argument? That showed a dedication that made Scott proud.

"No we're not done. I wanted to say..." Scott took a deep breath. "Dad would want you to think more seriously, not to rush in, make better plans for the future and all that. And I've tried to do what he would have wanted, to do what's best for this family and for this organisation."

"I know that, and you're doing a great job. And I know that I needed a formal guardian after we lost Dad. And even though it's not been any different in some ways because you were the one who taught me to do my shoelaces and you've always been the one to make me do my homework or chew my food properly but sometimes..." Alan ran out of words.

"Sometimes you just want me to be your big brother." Scott finished for him, on the same page.

"Yeah."

"Come here." Scott held out an arm and Alan lumped his way over to the bed. Scott drew him in tight for a hug that the youngest Tracey resisted for only a second.

"And I always want to be your big brother. The other responsibilities have made me forget just how much I love being a big brother and how different that is from anything else. It's difficult to balance everything but I promise that I'm going to try harder and get better."

"So you're not going to be such a jerk?"

"Hey!" Scott protested, drawing back slightly, but grinned when he saw Alan's cheeky expression. "Nobody's going to be a jerk."

"Then does my brother think my further education plans are 'crazy, ill-judged and conceited?"

Alan's tone was light but Scott could sense the weight of this question. As much as he may shrug it off Alan really cared what his family thought and the wrong word in the wrong place could wreck his confidence. Gordon often put his foot in it.

Honestly Scott wasn't entirely convinced that this course would be Alan's best choice in any respect. He could offer suggestions of better options, better institutions, better paths to follow. Maybe, if Alan had been his son, he would have mentioned them. He would have tried to persuade him to take another option, lay out carrots as well as sticks. But Alan wasn't his son and so there was only one thing to say in this moment.

"As your brother, I think it's awesome."

The grin Alan gave him was the reward for saying the right thing, and Alan immediately bounced off the bed grab the prospectus and wave it in his face. Guardian-Scott might have to do some damage limitation when Alan found distance learning for a course like this more difficult than he imagined. International Rescue – Scott would have to find enough hours in the day so they didn't compromise their missions or Alan's education.

Big Brother-Scott didn't care about any of those things. Alan was happy and that was all that mattered.


	2. Chapter 2

This was for the prompt: 'Scott and Virgil and kids at Christmas'

* * *

"Would you want one of these, one day?" Virgil asked.

Scott peered at him in the dim light. Though only sitting against the opposite wall, Virgil's features were difficult to make out. Scott gave a one shouldered shrug in response, being careful not to disturb anyone.

"Weird." Said Virgil "I always thought you would make a great dad."

They had been trapped in this room for nearly eight hours now. A combination of high winds and acid rain had meant it wasn't safe to take off. The flash flood made it impossible to leave the room. Damage to this mining complex's communications array made Thunderbird Five indecipherable due to static, at least until the storm passed. It had been a crazy day, _not_ the normal Tuesday.

The only place to seek refuge had been this cramped supply closet. Okay it was large as supply closets went, but still far too small for six people, even small people. Far from the best place to spend the night, let alone this particular night.

"I haven't really thought about it." lied Scott.

"Sure." Scoffed Virgil.

It would have been alright if it was just the two of them - well not alright: it was always tough to be on a callout on the important days – but they could manage. It came with the job and no-one took a missed birthday or anniversary personally. It was the kids that Scott felt sorry for.

They had managed to evacuate all of the miners before the storm swept in, but the children had been holed up in their school room across the camp. Scott and Virgil had barely made it to them before the weather got too bad and there was no way to get them out.

To their credit they had been very brave: comforted by the soothing tones of confident adults who never let their own fear show. Virgil and Scott had been hard pressed to distract them though.

Tonight they should have been in the main compound with their families, putting the finishing touches to the Christmas tree. They should have put out stockings and a plate of mince pies for Santa (plus carrots for the reindeer). There should have been hot chocolate while wrapped in blankets and watching The Muppets Christmas Carol.

 _That_ was Christmas Eve, not this: stuck in their school store room with two strangers.

When Scott and Virgil realised they were going to be taking up temporary residence they set to wearing out the four energetic ten-year-olds as quickly as possible. They raided the school supplies without compunction and the room was now full of pictures, Christmas lists, paper chains, garlands, paper snowflakes and origami stars. They used every craft and game in their arsenal to fill the time and stop them all dwelling on what a shit Christmas Eve this had turned out to be.

When the wind had picked up further Scot and Virgil had told the children that it would be most fun –meaning safe – to camp in this small room with no windows. Now they were both trapped with one child sleeping on each side using their legs as a pillow, blankets wrapped tight. Scott couldn't blame them for taking what comfort they could despite the absence of their parents.

"What?"

"You're Scott Tracy, you plan everything. Of course you've at least _considered_ it." Virgil said.

Scott frowned. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with being prepared and I seldom hear you complaining when I've bought along just he piece of gear we need."

"Then what do you think?" Virgil nodded at the forms sleeping on them. "Do you want a family of your own?"

"Well, in theory yes, but practically is a whole different ball game."

"Why?"

"For one thing we are spending Christmas Eve holed up half way around the world from home, and will do to well into Christmas Day. It takes a pretty special person to be prepared to put up with that sort of crap."

"Special people do exist though." Virgil countered, ever the optimist.

"Sure, but first I have to find them, and to find them I have to talk to more than just people I happen to be rescuing at that moment."

"So take a day off. Go to a club – I'd make a great wingman."

"That's not really my scene." Scott scrunched up his face in distaste.

"Stop seeing problems! We're solutions people."

Scott gave a deep sigh.

"I don't think I could do that to someone, do that to those hypothetical kids."

"Do what?" Virgil asked.

"Make them sit and wait every time. We get a taste of it sure, but for _every_ mission, _every_ rescue, they would be sitting at home wondering if this was the time that we were too daring. If this time the problem was too big. If this time someone wasn't coming home."

Scott had often wondered if they would be in this line of work if Mom were still alive. Would she be sitting at home right now, checking and rechecking the equipment, waiting anxiously for them to get back in touch? Maybe she would be pacing – she was always full of energy so Scott didn't know if she could sit and wait. Or maybe she was doing something – cleaning, cooking, painting – anything to fill her hands while her thoughts were far away.

"Or they could be sitting there thinking how proud they are." Virgil was saying. "I'm not going to say I'm not worried when one of you guys is out there without me, it makes me feel sick I'm so scared for you. But that's nothing compared to the look on people's faces when we get them out of trouble. Think of what these guys parents are going to look like when we get out of here."

"Yeah, that's the reason I do it, but that's not good enough to put someone else through it." Scott told him.

"Thing is Scott, you don't necessarily get to make that choice for someone. If I manage to get you off the island long enough to run into this special person you don't get to decide how much they can cope with."

Scott thought about that, really thought about what it would be like to raise children on the island. They'd learn to walk along the beaches. He would need to put in guard rails around the pool until Gordon taught them to swim. Maybe John could home school them for a bit - because he was by far the best teacher – just until they were old enough to spend some time away. Not that he would want them to go to boarding school as such but they didn't exactly live in any school's catchment area and he would want them to have meet other kids. He would teach them to fly, of course, in one of the light aircraft they kept for when a Thunderbird would be overkill. They'd spend time baking with Grandma and drawing pictures of the rain forest. Kayo would tell them stories about hero's and villains, Virgil teach them the piano, Alan would game with them and Brains would probably make a robotic pet.

In all his musing – now or before – it never occurred to Scott that neither he nor his family would be living anywhere but the island.

"I'll tell you one thing, no child of mine will be joining International Rescue." Scott said gruffly.

Virgil laughed, being sure to keep it low and quiet. "That will be another thing that you don't get to decide. But I'm glad we've moved on from 'it'll never happen' though."

Maybe Mom _wouldn't_ have been waiting at home. Maybe she would have been out with them. She never once asked someone else for a favour she wasn't prepared to do in return: maybe this would have been no different. Part of Scott knew that his memories were coloured through the lenses of childhood, time and the firm belief that he had _the best Mom ever. B_ ut the other part believed that his Mom would be as fearless in the face of natural disasters as she was fighting for the last of that year's must-have toy.

Yeah, his Mom would have made a great Thunderbird pilot. Scott felt a smile spread across his face at the thought. Virgil looked puzzled, not knowing where Scott's musings had taken him.

"What about you? See a family in your future?" Scott asked his little brother.

"Yep." Virgil grinned. "A whole football team's worth."

"And maybe that's something _you_ don't get to decide" Scott chuckled.

"Probably." Virgil agreed without any less humour.

"Then maybe we should go out together at some point – meet some people who aren't scared to death for a change."

Before Virgil could answer a high pitched beep started to emanate from Scott's wrist. He moved to silence it as quickly as he could, but one of the children still woke slightly, muttered, and then snuggled in closer.

It was always a challenge to keep up with who was in which time zone. John could tell you who had recently eaten, who had slept or who was three days younger than they should be because they'd crossed the International Date Line too often without even looking up from his coffee. Scott couldn't do any of those things and had a hard time keeping straight where was day and where was night, so he kept his watch set to island time – a small anchor to home.

The beep could only mean one thing – back on a small friendly island in the middle of a large uncaring ocean it was midnight. It was Christmas day.

Everyone might be fast asleep right now, the turning of the day going unnoticed. As Thunderbird Two was still mid-mission they were probably still awake and exchanging the first greeting and hugs of the day, John giving his virtually for now. Scott wasn't about to let thousands of miles get in the way of joining in.

"Happy Christmas Virgil. Not how I wanted to start the day."

"Happy Christmas Scott. Be neither, but " Virgil looked down fondly at the sleeping forms that were pinning him down. "It could be worse."


End file.
